


nothing but the pearls

by starraya



Category: Phantom Thread (2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starraya/pseuds/starraya
Summary: Everyone at Woodcock House knows that Cyril does not work on certain Saturdays.
Relationships: Cyril Woodcock/ Original Female Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	nothing but the pearls

Everyone at Woodcock House knows that Cyril does not work on certain Saturdays. She leaves the house in the afternoon and does not return until just before midnight. Even Reynolds does not know exactly where she goes.

She changes out of a black dress and into a blue one. Different clothes have different purposes and it is never good to mix work with other business. She applies some more powder, touches up her lipstick, makes sure her watch faces the right way up and her pearl necklace sits right. She also takes a handbag with her to tidy herself afterwards. She takes her powder and lipstick, a mirror and a hairbrush and soap to wash her hands. She likes to use her own soap, if she can. It’s vanilla-scented. Like her perfume.

Sometimes she goes to bars, the kind with passwords, the kind where the landlords have known her for years, and she sits and drinks and scans the room, or if there is already an arrangement, she goes straight to the house, but the arrangements never last for more than a few months. Then it is back to the bars. Or another house. She is fairer than Reynolds though. She tells the women from the start where things stand and doesn’t expect them to fall in love with her, to give everything up for her.

“It’s curious,” the last woman had said. “I’ve watched you. You go for women in dresses, for women in suits, but you always like to hold the power.”

“I appreciate all kinds of women,” Cyril had replied, before slipping two fingers inside the woman and fucking her perfectly. She enjoys nothing more than making a woman come apart, watching, hearing, feeling a woman come apart. 

One Saturday is different from them all.

One woman is different from them all.

At the bar, Cyril talks with a woman called Ann. Ann is in her early forties, with short blonde hair and a exquisitely tailored velvet waistcoat. Fingers skimming the pearls of her necklace, a habit she does when she especially likes the woman, Cyril takes small sips of her wine. She gets impatient quickly. 

“So, do you live close?” Cyril asks the woman. “Or do you prefer hotel rooms? I have an understanding with an establishment not far from here.” 

“I prefer . . . less enclosed places,” Ann says. “But you don’t strike me as a woman who fucks outdoors.” 

They go back to the hotel room. Number Six. Cyril’s room. Fresh flowers on the side, fresh sheets on the bed. Plush carpets and silk pillows. As soon as Cyril enters the room, she steps out of heels and Ann follows suit. 

Ann starts taking off Cyril's jacket. Cyril lets her, but instructs her to hang it up in the wardrobe. “There’s hangers,” she says. 

Amusement flickers on Ann’s face. She does as Cyril says and wonders if Cyril will ask for every item of clothing to be hung up. 

Ann starts kissing Cyril’s neck and unbuttoning her blouse.

Cyril stops her. “That isn’t how this works.” 

“Isn’t it?” Ann takes Cyril’s hand before Cyril can reach for the buttons of her waistcoat. “And what about what I want?”

”What do you want?”

\- 

It is a few weeks before Cyril and Ann go to the hotel room again. They meet up before that at the bar and they even go to a restaurant one Saturday. The woman wants to talk to her more, to get to know her more, before they go to the hotel again.

“Don’t worry I don’t want to marry you, I just want a little bit more of your company,” Ann assures Cyril when she asks if they can do the restaurant again. 

Cyril says yes. Cyril says yes too when Ann asks if they can take a stroll outside. It’s a full moon and Ann’s loved full moons since she was a child.

They walk together underneath the moonlight and talk about Cyril’s line of work. 

“Have you ever worn one of your brother’s dresses?” Ann asks her.

“God, no,” Cyril says, before taking a drag of her cigarette.

“Why not?”

“There are two kinds of women in this world. The kind that are made to wear beautiful dresses and the kind that aren’t.” Cyril’s known since she was teenager that she could never do one of her brother’s dresses justice. She doesn’t have the right measurements. She’s too short, too thin. 

“I believe it is the woman that makes the dress beautiful, not the other way round,” Ann says.

“Never go into fashion.” 

“I also believe -”

”Is this going to turn into a sermon?”

“I also believe that you work too much and that everyone, even you, needs a little moment of release now and then.” 

-

Cyril knows her hair is a mess, she can feel the strands sticking to the sweat on her forehead. But she doesn’t mind. 

She thought she would mind, the first time when she took off all her clothes, everything but the pearl necklace - as Ann requested - and she did mind, for a bit. But with each of Ann’s kisses, the anxiety disappeared. 

This evening, when Ann gently tied the blindfold around her eyes, Cyril’s heart beat hard in anticipation. She has never done this before. Let go, as Ann termed it.

Ann teases her so slowly, so expertly, makes her writhe and sigh and swear, that all Cyril can do, when Ann’s hands grip her hips and her mouth settles between her thighs, is let go. 

-

It is a usual morning. Cyril opens the windows and greets the staff. She has tried not to think about the Saturday just gone, afraid it might affect her concentration. And they have an important client this morning, Countess Henrietta Harding. But just before she gets the door and welcomes the Countess, the memory suddenly springs up in her mind and she can’t help but smile.


End file.
